


One, Two, Boot

by ProwlingThunder



Series: The Everlasting List of Shenanigans [84]
Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Accidental Kiss, Everybody Ships Agatha/Tarvek/Gil, Hero Problems, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProwlingThunder/pseuds/ProwlingThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Othar is a Hero that habitually ruins plans. That's okay; Tarvek makes a pretty good Villain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One, Two, Boot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Asuka Kureru (Askerian)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Askerian/gifts).



> Asuka prompted me on the Girl Genius meme: Gil/Tarvek – prompt 58, Kick In The Head

In all things, Gil concluded, Tarvek was the world's quietest, sneakiest person alive. He _had been in the lab_ just five minutes ago-- or, at least, Gil was pretty sure it had been five minutes ago. His perception of time was a little off kilter currently, because any time Othar broke in-- or out-- dealing with him took mutually Way Too Long and All of Ten Seconds.

 

But Tarvek _had_ been here. Gil was sure of it. Or perhaps he had been hallucinating; he still wasn't getting enough sleep. There wasn't anyone else to _ask_ except Othar, and there was exactly zero chances of him getting a real answer out of the Hero, assuming Othar could still hear to ask after he had blown up their current project, because Gil sure couldn't. Not that he could see, either, for all the smoke.

 

Some of that smoke might have been Tarvek's. He could out-sneak Smoke Knights, couldn't he? And obviously Smoke Knights were in to using smoke, or their name was more than a little redundant. Assuming, of course, Tarvek had been here at all.

 

Gil kind of _hoped_ Tarvek had been here. Between the two of them, Othar was well-rested, older and more experienced, and last time Gil had gotten a look at him, he'd stolen the lone (obvious) death ray in Gil's lab. Unfortunately, all his other death rays were over _there_ , beyond the hunk of flaming machinery and spilled chemicals.

 

The smoke was noxious.

 

Othar helpfully opened a window for no reason he could fathom except that maybe he couldn't breathe either. Gil found his favorite wrench, stood up to face him in the thinning cloud.

 

“Ah, that's better!” Othar exclaimed-- or, well, Gil thought he did, but he was projecting. He still couldn't hear. Though Othar turned to him after that, waving Gil's death ray at him. Gil didn't even need to read his lips to guess what he was saying. He fingered his wrench, considering angles. “Now, villain-- time to do away with you!”

 

“Let's not.” Othar dutifully ignored him, which didn't actually surprise Gil that much. He suspected Othar's hearing hadn't come back either, and felt a swell of pride at the thought. Between that, the busted lip, and the cracked visor-- Gil was feeling pretty good about the damage he had inflicted.

 

Also his adrenaline was dwindling. He needed some more coffee.

 

“Then, I shall kill your Spark lover, and free my beautiful girl assistant! I shall reassure her of your needed deaths and console her sufficiently!”

 

Something hard and heavy smacked Gil in the back of the head and sent him sprawling on the floor, his wrench skittering. (Something landed with a heavy-looking thump next to his head.) He glanced up just in time to see a golden shape impact on Othar's face. The hero in question and the aforementioned offending object both fell out the window.

 

“Foul!”

 

He thought he saw Othar pull the trigger on his death ray as he fell, but between his current spot on the floor and Othar's current spot falling, Gil probably imagined it. Nothing happened, anyway.

 

He remained there on the floor for a few moments, until he saw Tarvek's pant legs stop in front of him. Then he accepted the offered hand, and _thought_ he heard Tarvek ask him something, but of course, he still couldn't _hear_ it, what a shame. Apparently Tarvek wasn't as dense as normal, because he seemed to realize that.

 

Or maybe he was suffering from it, too. Gil sincerely hoped he _was_ , vanishing to leave him to deal with _Othar_.

 

Tarvek eyed him, then mouthed very clearly: “He was referring to Agatha, yes?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Tarvek nodded, looking supremely satisfied. He leaned down to pick up a very familiar object and examined it. Then he turned to Gil and _smiled_. Gil blinked at him, almost too distracted to look at what he was saying.

 

“Hero-Kicking Boots. Very nice. Very... effective.”

 

Held in Tarvek's slim fingers was one of the large, golden boots Gil had made when he was ten.

 

Horrified, Gil ran to the window, but he didn't see any sign of Othar or the other boot. “You _idiot_! Now he's got the other one!” He turned around to go strangle the would-be King, but found the other directly in front of him instead, close enough to touch.

 

Their lips met on pure, unadulterated accident. Or it was Tarvek's fault.

 

 

 

Somewhere on the ground, Othar found a little, golden boot approximately the size of the print on his face, but of course, he did not know that. Still, it was too cute to pass up, so he stuck it in his pocket and continued on his way to hunt more Sparks. The Baron and his lover could wait a little longer.


End file.
